Jack flashed along the deck. There was a light inside the office of the ship’s bookkeeper and cashier—which is what a purser amounts to, besides being a banker and money changer.
The boy saw in an instant what had happened.
The safe had been dynamited. Its door hung by one hinge. The air was full of smoke and the acrid reek of the explosive.
Jack knew that large sums of money and jewelry were frequently in the safe, and no doubt the bold thief had made off with an armful of loot. He wasted no more time investigating, but at top speed dashed for the gangway.
On the deck two big arc-lights shimmered whitely. Under their glare he saw a darting figure making for the shore end of the dock. He noticed that the man was heavily bearded and wore the rough clothes of a sea-faring man.
“Stop thief! Stop!” shouted the boy; but the man kept right on with his head down, clutching something that he had concealed in his loose sailor’s blouse.
There was an old watchman at the gates of the dock. He put out a feeble arm to stop the marauder, but a terrific blow in the face knocked him off his feet.
The man darted on. Jack was close on his heels. They passed through the gate with only a few feet separating them.
A hack, apparently stationed there in preparation for the flight, was waiting. The black-bearded man leaped into it. But, by providential luck, another night-prowling rig came along at just that moment, its driver nodding sleepily.
As the first rig dashed off, rattling loudly over the rough street, Jack leaped to the front seat of the second, beside the astonished driver.